Samuel Berry and the Forsaken Wand
by LCGraves
Summary: Set several years after Voldemort's death, with old and new faces. Samuel Berry is definitively Slytherin - except for the fact that he doesn't want to be. It'll take an unlikely friendship to dismantle the stereotypes that haunt both Samuel and Hogwarts.


_So bored have I been that I've created this, my own adventure in the wizarding world of Harry Potter. While I obviously don't own anything of J.K. Rowling's creation, all of the original characters are mine and I would thank whoever wishes to use them to 1.)ask my permission and 2.)give me credit for them. As you will see, I don't do a lot of work describing the characters - I prefer to leave a good amount of such detail for the reader to fill in, to help the character become a part of them. That said, artistic interpretation concerning their appearances is allowed and encouraged should anyone wish to draw them, again so long as permission is asked and credit given. Now, without further ado, on to the prologue! [constructive criticism appreciated]_

Prologue ~ The Sorting

Standing in the Great Hall, waiting to be sorted, Samuel Berry was keenly aware of how new the wizarding world was to him. After all, he'd only known that he was a wizard now for a little under half a year. Anxious to deny any hint of magical talent in her only son, willing to do anything to protect her family from contact with the wizarding world, it had taken eleven long years and a visit from Minerva McGonagall to convince Mary Berry of the need for disclosure.

Samuel felt a mixture of awe and fear for the thin-lipped witch seated above the students. He could remember roughly what she'd said to his mother as he eavesdropped from their second floor landing. "Mrs. Berry, while I sympathize with your desire to protect your loved ones, I must again stress the fact that the Dark Lord has been dead now for two whole years. Hogwarts is, for the most part, rebuilt, there are no remaining Death Eaters to speak of, and yet you continue to lie to your husband and child concerning their reality. No, Mrs. Berry, a lie is exactly what this is, and an unjust one at that. As such you will tell them this evening; I expect to see Samuel at Hogwarts this Fall. No excuses." He heard a sharp pop and, fearing that the robed stranger had struck his mother, flew down the stairs to her defense. To his shock he saw only Mary, crying silently and clutching a folded piece of parchment.

One silent dinner and a jumbled confession later and Joel Berry was taking rather well to his wife being a witch; or at least, better than had Samuel to being a wizard. "This'll earn us loads, it will! You can ante up your maid service, since you can start using your magic to clean. That way you'll be less tired, seeing as you won't have to work so hard. Heck, you might even get to spend more time with Sammy, since you'll be doing more for less! That's what you've been wanting, ain't it son?" Samuel stared at the floor and shrugged his shoulders. Joel, his smile slacking, glanced questioningly at his frowning wife. Was he the only one that realized what a blessing this would be?

It was only after Mary informed her over-eager spouse of the need for wizarding secrecy that Joel could understand this revelation from Samuel's point of view. She had denied her son's abilities for so long that, despite the strange occurrences and unlikely explanations surrounding Samuel's life, he had had ample time to build a nice life for himself in the quaint hamlet of Waxonshire. He had friends who he enjoyed and who enjoyed him; he was one of the most well-thought-of students in his class; all the neighbors loved him for his impeccable manners and sharp wit. Indeed, if there had been any one word to describe young Samuel Berry's existence in Waxonshire, it would've been "happy."

Now that he was a confirmed wizard, however, things would have to change. He would need to drop out of his current academy so as to enroll at Hogwarts, the wizarding school his mother had attended and of which McGonagall was Headmistress. To avoid the suspicion of their neighbors (and to help Samuel transition more smoothly into the wizarding world), McGonagall had suggested that the Berrys move to the magical community of Lacpont, just outside of London. Joel, though reluctant to pick up his roots, eventually agreed with Mary that such would be for the best. For Samuel this meant the loss of his friends, and while he doubted that they would still like him if they knew he was so different, he was too accustomed to their company not to desire it.

He would have rather not been a wizard at all, he cried aloud suddenly. He wanted to stay home, where things were nice and familiar. He could pretend to be regular, just like everyone else. He didn't need magic to live a good life. He didn't need Hogwarts, didn't want it or its teachers to drag him away from everything he knew and loved. His eyes began to sting at this, though he refused to rub them. He merely continued to stare defiantly at the patterned rug beneath them, tears running down his nose and onto his knees.

Mary patted her lap, motioning for her son to sit. After he had done so she wiped his cheeks dry with her sleeve, holding him close while rocking away his sobs. She whispered, her mouth hidden in his sandy hair, that he couldn't possibly pretend forever to be something he wasn't. Though she was just as scared as him, the fact remained that he was a wizard. He would need Hogwarts, whether he used his magic later in life or not, to teach him how to control himself. Didn't he remember the time the pudding had exploded at dinner, or the time Beverly Trusser's hair turned pink overnight? Samuel, for his part, said nothing at these memories, but she understood from the way he grew quiet that he knew she was right. There was nothing to be done for the past – they had to move forward.

Plans were drawn up, explanations were made, belongings were packed away, and within a few too-short weeks the Berry family had set off to begin their new life in Lacpont. The months just prior to his arrival at Hogwarts came back to Samuel now as clear yet disjointed, no doubt a result of the stress he was experiencing at finally having arrived at Hogwarts. His mother tutoring him in the culture and customs of the wizarding world; his first trip to Diagon Alley; meeting Mr. Ollivander; being chosen by his wand - cherry with unicorn hair; establishing his very own vault at Gringotts (with a contribution from his mother's savings). It had all been so whimsically encompassing, so unexpected, that Samuel could hardly remember the particulars of his original life anymore. His missed it still to be sure, but try as he might the memories came back to him only vaguely. Indeed, despite his reservations he had found and was continuing to find that life in the magical world suited him just fine after all.

"Batina, Muriel!" shrieked the tiny wizard at the head of the line of first years. Muriel Batina, her hair as black and billowy as the robes she wore, strode forward proudly to sit on the stool before the assembled students and faculty. Professor Flitwick, as he had been introduced to the first years, placed on her head the tattered old hat he'd brought into the hall not half an hour prior. Its folds drawn into a deep frown, the hat seemed lost in contemplation. A pregnant pause hung over the assembly during which the walls themselves seemed ready to burst from anxiety before the hat roared, "SLYTHERIN!"

The table farthest to Samuel's left burst into applause as Muriel trotted to her seat. Samuel, for his part, scowled at the celebrating Slytherins. Short though their time for lessons had been, his mother had taught him enough wizarding history for him to know better than to desire a place in Slytherin House. The memory of Voldemort and his followers had not yet grown so cold, and though the House and its members had made a notable contribution in bringing down the self-proclaimed Dark Lord, the fact remained that it was the heir of Salazar Slytherin himself who had aimed at enslaving the entirety of muggledom. A wizarding Hitler, Samuel remembered thinking to himself the first time his mother had broached the subject.

"Beavus, Richard!" the tiny wizard exclaimed. A tall boy stepped forward this time with a stooped head and heavy footfalls. The too-short wizard struggled to reach his head, eventually handing over the hat for the boy to put on himself. Any snickers that followed were silenced as the Sorting Hat began its evaluation. Half a minute later and the rip above the brim opened wide again, bellowing "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The students next to the Slytherins erupted this time, welcoming their newest addition. Samuel smiled – his mother had been a Hufflepuff. They were considered to be the "average," she had told him. If you didn't fit in anywhere else, you most certainly belonged in Hufflepuff. Of course that wasn't the whole truth; Hufflepuff was founded on kindness, loyalty, and hard-work, or so his mother claimed. Still, because it was traditionally the largest house, Hufflepuff was stuck with its reputation as the place for leftovers.

Samuel gazed up at the starry ceiling. It was a beautiful night, he could tell – the moon was shining brightly without a single cloud to mar its porcelain face. The Great Hall's ceiling had been one of his mother's favorite features of Hogwarts – he could see why. "Benns, Nicholas!" The boy in front of Samuel stepped forward slowly, his blond hair gleaming in the soft candlelight. It took only a split-second for the hat to makes its decision. "RAVENCLAW!" it screamed, almost drowned out by the noise of the students immediately to Samuel's right. Nicholas got down more swiftly than he had stepped forward, seemingly eager to be out of the limelight.

"Berry, Samuel!" It was almost surreal for Samuel finally to hear his name called, as much as he'd been anticipating it. He mounted the platform, his heart beating audibly in his chest. As Flitwick lowered the Sorting Hat onto his head, past his ears, his mind buzzed with thoughts of which house he would be placed in. Was he brave enough for Gryffindor? Probably – he'd killed all of the spiders his mother found in their new home. Was he smart enough for Ravenclaw? Again, probably – he'd been at the top of his class in his old school. But how proud would his mother be to hear he'd been placed in Hufflepuff? She'd likely be ecstatic! Sure, he'd be known as average, but he could deal with that. In truth, anything would be better than Slytherin.

"By my stitches...I haven't seen anything this jumbled in a while," the hat whispered. Samuel started – he hadn't known the hat could say anything more than the names of the four houses. "Clever, brave, loyal, smart, courteous, kind...you are many things, my boy. Or rather, you _seem _many things. Bluntly, one might use the word 'malleable.'" Samuel swallowed hard at this – what was that supposed to mean? This seemed like too much thought for such a simple decision. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff – either would do. Just not Slytherin!

"I can hear you, you know. 'Not Slytherin'? Remarkable. The last time I heard that phrase was well before you came around! Then, I admit, I was confused...that one had a bit of another in him. Half in Gryffindor, half in Slytherin! Ha! What a twist!" Samuel could feel beads of sweat building on his brow both from the heat of the hat and the tension of the moment. The hall was silent; it felt as though time had frozen. Could the other students hear what the hat was saying as well, or was this all in his head?

"Yes, and we all know how that ended. I sorted him right, I did! And I'll sort you right, too. Trust me. Now. I see a very malleable disposition. Changing, always changing, which means eager to please. But why? Ambition, with cunning, cleverness, and determination to go along with it. And such resourcefulness! Such a knack for information!You can thrive in any situation, can't you? I think so. Therefore I'll place you in...ha! SLYTHERIN!" The last word echoed in Samuel's ears as it was yelled to the waiting students. The Slytherin table exploded once more into cheers and jubilation. Professor Flitwick removed the Sorting Hat from Samuel's head, patting him on the back as he did so. "Good show, my boy. Move along now."

The candlelight that had been so warm just moments before suddenly turned blinding. Samuel felt groggy and yet electrified all at once; his head was swimming but his brain was firing at an astonishing rate. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to be this way! He was a nice person, not a – a _snake_! And "malleable"? "Always changing"? "Eager to please"? What the bloody hell was all of _that_? And oh, what would his mother think? Sorted into the same House as the magical monsters she'd tried so desperately to protect him from...

Samuel moved mechanically, his feet taking him absentmindedly to the bench he recognized but refused to acknowledge. He sat down hard, biting back the stinging sensation that threatened to expose his sorrow. His new housemates patted him roughly on the back, murmuring various welcomes and congratulations that ghosted through Samuel's ears, distant and distorted. Directly opposite him was Muriel Batina, smiling wide, her eyes like two black beetles glaring at him. Samuel nodded back, his face twisted into what one might expect of a child braving a broken leg, gritted teeth and all.

Even in his wildest nightmares he had never imagined anything quite as gut-wrenching as this. And yet the Sorting Hat was never wrong, or so his mother had said. This was him, regardless of whether he understood it or not. Just as he had had to accept being a wizard, so too would he have to accept being a Slytherin. There was nothing to be done about it – he would just keep moving forward. And determination? Ambition? Cleverness, cunning, and resourcefulness? He would give new meaning to _all_ of those descriptors. If he was to be a Slytherin, then by-George, he was going to be the best Slytherin Hogwarts had ever seen! Of that that dusty old mop could rest assured.

The rest of the students were sorted, some into Slytherin. At each such announcement Samuel clapped half-heartedly, not sure if his fellow new arrivals were feeling as slighted as he'd felt to be sorted into the "house of rotters." He hardly had an appetite anymore by the time the food appeared. The magic of the Hall, with its ghosts, enchanted tables, and charmed ceiling, had become somehow lesser. For the first time since leaving Waxonshire Samuel longed to be back in his old, unmagical life.


End file.
